The story of Alexandria Troy
by Sandalino Silvio Leif
Summary: Story from the eyes of the younger sister of the chaser Troy from the Irish national team. Due to a deceased realative's prophecy Alexanderia and her twin brother must transfer out of their local school and move to england learn at hogwarts. !ON!HOLD!


A/N: I do not own harry potter. That woul be the brilliant J.K. Rowling. I just memorise the books. Please review since this is my first fanfic. Almost every referance to something is directly out of a book. The award that is talked abut is fro "quidditch through the ages. Thank you for bothering to look at this and please notify me if you think the rating should be changed.  
  
Prologue  
  
My first day at Hogwarts promised to be an interesting one. I was nervous of course but who wouldn't be a little nervous on their first day at a new school? But unlike most of the kids who would be starting this year I wasn't eleven or twelve. Actually I was sixteen going on seventeen. This was my sixth year of Wizarding School and I was a transfer student.  
  
Okay I lied. I'm really nervous. Everyone will already have friends and it will be hard to join a group. At least I'm not alone. My brother's with me of course. I mean you can hardly separate twins who have known each other for every moment of their entire lives. My mother once said that for the first three years she couldn't get us to sleep in separate beds. After that we still slept in the same room, usually with the beds right next to each other, until we went to St. Brigid's school for magic.  
  
Mum never saw this though. She and dad were killed when my brother and I were six. Since then it's just been me, my twin, and our older brother. Perhaps you would understand this better if I described my self and my family.  
  
My name is Alexandria Troy. I'm about five foot seven with waist length wavy black hair. By rights I should have a ton of red freckles and red hair and so should my brothers but my parents were known to perform odd bits of wizardry at a moments notice and so my brothers and I all have black hair and no freckles.  
  
My twin is called Alexander Troy. He's about five foot nine (growth spurt last year) with very slightly curly black hair that goes down to about his ear lobes. My older brother says my mum was drunk when we were born and didn't realize that she had twins. When the nurse asked what we were to be called my mum yelled "alexanda". And so the nurse named us two variations of that. My mum claimed it was on purpose and that she wasn't drunk but knowing my dad she probably was (plus I saw a photo from just after Alex and I were born and my mum and dad were singing "Johnny Tar" I think. so dad was drunk too).  
  
My older brother is Marcus Troy. Yes the same Marcus Troy who played as a chaser on the Irish national Quidditch team in the world cup last year. Yes the same Marcus Troy who won last year's "Dangerous Dai Commemorative Medal" for being the player who took the most exciting and foolhardy risks during a game. Since Mark plays on a professional Quidditch team, the Caerphilly Catapults, Alex and I, who he calls runt and runtess, have been exposed to quite a bit of Quidditch.  
  
Alex and I, when we're not at school, live with mark in his home outside of Dublin. Until this year that's where we lived after mum and dad died. You see they were both very odd, even for wizards. They both were almost seers. Mum had the fastest reflexes your ever likely to see. Some people swore she must have seen things happen before they actually did. She explained it once. She said that when something happened, say a glass fell off the table, everything seemed to slow down. She could sense perfectly where the glass was in it's path to the floor. She would be able to slowly reach out and grasp the glass before the world sped up.  
  
Dad was almost as weird. He had this sixth sense that told him to do or not do something. Let's say we were supposed to be driving to my, muggle, aunt's house which is about three hundred miles. And lets say a big truck was going to blow a tire and flip over and cause a huge wreck half way there. My dad would be able to sense it and would phone my aunt and tell her we'd be a day late.  
  
Together though is when my parents were the best. They made actual prophecies then. Three prophecies they made. The first was on their honeymoon. They made a prophecy that said that they would have three children and not live to see their daughter's seventh birthday. The second they never explained about. They said Alex and I would know where to find it when the time was right. The third was their last. The third was the one that killed them. On my dad's birthday My brothers and I were in the kitchen sitting at the table while my mum made a cake and breakfast (was apple cinnamon tea, my favorite, and toast). My father walked in tying his tie around his neck. He walked up to mum and gave her a kiss, same as every other morning. Halfway through the kiss they both froze. Their eyes took on a misted look and the broke apart and stared at the rising sun. My dad lowered his arms and accidentally bumped the medicine cabinet my aunt insisted on. A bunch of stuff fell out and scattered all over the counter tops and the oven. They just kept staring out of the window.  
  
Well something that was spilled must have caught fire in the oven because suddenly there was an explosion. The whole kitchen wall was on fire and they just stood there mark, then nineteen, was yelling as he grabbed Alex and I and threw us into the hall. He started back for mum and dad but another explosion threw us all to the ground. The heat was so intense we were force to run from the house.  
  
My brother started sprinting into the main part of town yelling for help after telling Alex and I to stay away from the house. We, of course, disobeyed. As soon as he was out of sight we ran to the kitchen window which promptly exploded sending glass shards at us. Cut and bleeding we stood at the kitchen window ignoring the heat and flames. Forever, I think, this image will be imprinted in my mind.  
  
Mum and dad were holding hands in the middle of the kitchen staring out the window looking strait over our heads. They were glowing with a strange red light and the flames didn't seem to be affecting them at all. In slow monotonous voices the recited their last prophesy.  
  
"A Troy's last day is marked with a blood red sky. That is how they know to die. Though we shan't live to see another Our daughter will and so will her brothers To live their lives they must move on. They must not stay for the morrow's dawn. In years to follow they must not shun, Today's meaning, a bloody tradition. And every decade they must move on, In order to avoid the next bloody dawn. 'Cause with a little help and a whole lot of luck, Small ones have broken cycles no matter what it took"  
  
With that they came out of their trance and into the reality of where they were. We watched as they held each other close and didn't make a sound while the fire engulfed the house. We probably would have stood there until the house burnt down if there wasn't another explosion. We watched as a giant fire ball engulfed our parents and came for us. We kept our eyes open as it surrounded us and threw us back into the fence. We never lost consciousness and never even blinked as people with water ran around us to the house, nor when we were carefully picked up and put on stretchers and taken to a wood not far from home. We didn't so much as bat an eyelid when we were magiked into St. Mungo's. We never moved at all until the following morning. When we finally lost consciousness. The only other thing I remember about that day was the blood red sky at sunrise and sunset.  
  
We healed almost perfectly. Because of the spells used to heal our badly burned skin our skin will never change. It will never tan and we will never get pimples or anything like that. The healers said that by our sixtieth birthday the spells may start to wear of and we may start to get wrinkles but not much sooner. And so Alex mark and I have lived together since then and this summer when the ten-year mark came we left Ireland and came here, to England.  
  
So now here I am nervous for my first day at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry where I hear the boy who lives goes. Wish me luck. 


End file.
